We Found Your Hat

“And that is what he told you?” Logo inquired after the explanation.

“Yeah,” Pixer responded with a nod. While Pixer was reciting the day which Hatless visited him, the two had explored the majority of Ponyville. By this point, they were leaving the village to check out the outskirts.  Their hooves trampled on a worn dirt road. “When I accepted the task the week after, he did not mention much of anything else. There is the stone, though.”

The brown-maned Earth Pony squinted both eyes and tilted his head. “What are you talking about? I don't recall there being a stone.” He fell slightly behind Pixer contemplating what sort of rock Pixer spoke of.

“It was a green pebble. He had me touch it before he put it inside the crown.” The crown-painter lifted both hooves off the ground and shrugged. “I don't know what it is for, though.”

“Huh. Is it valuable?”

“Could be.” The trail ended. Pixer broke his concentration from the conversation and gazed upon the sight in front of him. “Oh, the farm.” A bright red barn, a hay-thatched-roof, cozy ranch house, a few fields of corn and carrots, and acres after acres of apple trees greeted them; specifically, the house and barn lay to the center surrounded by the corn and carrots, and the apple orchard encircled those. The road which they had taken led past a wooden gateway to the ranch house.

“An apple farm, at that.”

“This place is great. I could take good photos all day.” Pixer grinned, whipping out a camera from his bag. “Let's go explore.”

“I dunno ab-” Logo tried to get a word in, but Pixer had already advanced past the wooden gateway. “Right... nevermind.” The wingless one trotted up beside his friend. “Let's go to the house. We should ask before wandering around their property.” Pixer did not reply instantly, so Logo grabbed his companion and yanked him towards the house. The winged one minded little. Once at the door, the typewriter pony knocked.

“Hello?” An orange Earth Pony with a blond mane and tail—both in pony tails—opened the door.  She donned a cowpony hat, and her eyes were green.  “Hi there. What can I do fer ya?”

“Well, uh...” Logo glanced at his friend.

“I'm Pixer and this is my friend Logo. We would like to take some photos of your property.” The camerapony smiled and bowed his head lightly before asking, “Would you mind? I am a photographer.”

“Oh.” The orange pony turned her gaze away, scrunched her face to the side, and lowered a single brow. “Never had a photographer here before. Why sure, go right ahead. Help yerselves to some apples. Just don't eat all o' them.”

“Pixer, go ahead. I'll be right here.”

“Okay!” The now-cheery fellow made his way over to the barnhouse.

Logo turned back to the other pony. “I have another question.” His hoof scratched the floor semi-nervously. “We're not from around here... and-”

“I gathered that much. I'm Applejack, by the way, and this here place is Sweet Apple Acres.” She walked out of the house to peer at the photographer and then faced Logo. “Welcome, and welcome t'Ponyville.”

“Right, thanks.” Logo nodded but quickly pushed the inquiry. “Do you know of any places we can stay? We've come from Maredon. That's a long ways from here, and we know nothing about Ponyville other than what we've seen since arriving this morning.” He restated his last question and then added, “We would not mind that barnhouse, if you wouldn't mind. We can pay.”

“I was actually about t'suggest that. You don't have t'pay, though.”

“Oh? Wow... t-thanks.” Logo paused considering his sentence greatly; he was baffled by the sudden act of hospitality. “I-I have another question. Do you know a pony by the name of Hatless?”

One would have thought Logo had spoken a foul word, for Applejack's eyelids scrunched down in an angry furl. Her voice raised. “Why? Are ya one of Hatless' friends? He scared the living-daylights outta my brother Big Mac the other day, and he is stirring up trouble for Twi.”

“Twi?”

“Princess Twilight. Now, are ya-” Applejack cut short when Logo jolted his head back and went  wide-eyed. “You okay?” Her tone settled down a bit. “Hello?” Logo allowed his jaw to steadily drop, while his eyes bounced back and forth over the ground. “Hello!?”

“Uh, oh! I-I... sorry. Yeah, I am-I mean no...” Near literally, Logo's tongue tripped over itself. “Blah! We are looking for Hatless. Sorry. It just surprised me that you know Princess Twilight.”

Applejack's expression became stern again. “Why in tarnation are ya looking fer Hatless?”

“Oh, we just heard about him, and, uh... thought it would be nice to meet you.”

“You're lying.”

That perception stunned him, and he had no method of responding. Fortunately, Pixer came to his rescue. “I'm waiting for you, Logo. I don't want to go too far off without you.” Applejack glared at the red pony. “We will be going.”

“You can't take any pictures, if you won't tell me the truth. If ya know something about Hatless, I need t'know about it. Twilight could be in danger.”

Logo readied to give an explanation, but Pixer shook his head and frowned. “We will leave. Sorry, if we caused you any trouble.” Applejack silently watched the two stallions march away from the farm. A distance from the farm, Pixer sighed, “That was close. I overheard that she knew Princess Twilight.”

“She knew Hatless too, and he didn't leave a good impression on her.” The yellow one grimaced weakly. “Maybe he is dangerous. Are you sure about this, Pixer?”

“Not really.” Doubt washed over top of them. “It is really confusing.” The red one gazed up at the sky; dusk had nearly set in. “We better find a place to stay soon. Maybe we should pray.”

“Forget maybe.” The companions brought themselves beneath a tree, bowed their heads, clasped their forehooves together, and shut their eyes. “God, we come before You in need. Please help us find a place to stay. Lord, please show us what we must do, and help us to trust You.” A paused form as Logo pondered if he should continue, but after some seconds, he simply ended, “In Jesus name...”

Pixer picked up, “Lord, we seek your guidance. You told us to come here, but now things aren't working out.” He bobbed his head of blue deliberating what to say next—similar to what his friend had done. “Uhm... what do you want us to do? We're confused, but... God, Jesus our Savior, we entrust this situation to you.” The photographer breathed in deeply between sentences. “I am sorry for not trusting you the way I should. Give us your Holy Spirit and please fill us... please.  And thank you for all you have done so far. Amen.”

“Amen.” They lifted their heads and gazed towards Ponyville.

“The dream that God showed Loops cannot be wrong,” Pixer stated with ever-lessening confidence. His voice shook.